The Passing Storm
by alconis pericordis
Summary: A tropical storm hits the town of Port Royal and brings tragedy to Will Turner. WARNING: Character Death; A Prequel to Starry, Starry Night for those who asked why Will left his home and his wife.


The Passing Storm

Rating: PG, for intense angst, character death.

Pairing: Will/Elizabeth

Disclaimer: POTC, and therefore all of these characters belong to Disney, Jerry Bruckheimer, and many, many others. I am not using them for personal profit and I do not intend to use them for any purpose other than private entertainment.

Author's notes: Yes, Elizabeth is going to die, and if you don't want to read this, then don't. This is partly a view into character motivations, and partly to set up what I am seeing is becoming a series of one-shots. Therefore, this comes quite a few months before the events in Starry, Starry Night. Someone asked how she died, and here's your answer. Lovely girl, that Elizabeth Swann… I have no doubts she'll be showing up in others fics of mine.  (Yes, the film Little Women inspired me, and I hereby give Disney credit for the idea that I am employing. I was going to give her yellow fever, but that's a very painful death, and malaria is messy, so we were going to go with this.)

               **I also want to thank each and every one of you who reviewed my other fic, and this is for you all. Thank you, thank you, thank you!**

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On the day that Elizabeth Turner died of scarlet fever, the skies opened and drenched the town of Port Royal in a torrential rain. As the skies darkened violently, shutters closed and citizens fled the streets towards the thick walls of the fort when violent winds tore through the palms. However, in Elizabeth's old bedroom, the young woman lay once more, her face now pale in the rapidly darkening afternoon. Her brow was beaded with sweat, her eyes were bloodshot and half-closed, but her mind still was strong. Her father and the servants had been sent away as the tropical storm blew through the island, but one still stood stoically by her side.

"Why haven't you gone down to the fort with the others?" her tired voice asked the shadows of her room, and an equally tired face emerged with dark circles under eyes that were too young to know such pain. Will Turner stood and walked from his corner to sit beside his ailing wife.

"I will never leave your side," he said as took her hand in his own and brought it to his lips. As she had slept restlessly, he watched her as he had watched her through his childhood into his adulthood. He renewed the pledge he had made to die for her if he could, and mentally added that if he couldn't, he would be the last face she would see as she closed her eyes forever. 

Outside, the rain fell in sheets, flooding the drainage spouts into fountains, shooting their waterfalls onto the landscape in beautiful arcs. The lightning and thunder crashed around the house, occasionally illuminating the large bedroom in silhouettes. Through the racket, the wind howled and moaned, crying as if Mother Nature herself had been offended. Will watched Elizabeth in the failing light until he could no longer see her face from the unnatural darkness of the afternoon. 

"Elizabeth, love…" Will caressed her hand until she turned slowly to look at him. Even in illness, her face was comely, but instead of health, it was illness that made her beautiful. Her face was bone-white, her hazel eyes bright with fever, her lips pink with a flush. Will released her hand onto the coverlet and pulled a handkerchief off the dresser and wiped the beads of sweat off of her forehead. The interrupted apparition of the rain through the curtains marred the white of the handkerchief and her face as Will leaned down to kiss her brow. "I will always love you most of all."

"Most?" she asked, her voice dry. "How can there be a most. I'm your only." The hint of humor fell flat as Will choked back a sob.

"My only…" He brushed a sweat-drenched lock of hair away from her forehead. "I repeal my promise. I will always love you only." He smiled as he saw the faint traces of a smile on her lips. 

"Will... you can't say you'll love me only." She said, pausing to catch her breath. "Go back to most." 

"Even _now_, you are a demanding woman." Will turned to look through the small crack in the curtains as a flash of lightning illuminated the room. The crash of thunder that followed drowned his heavy sigh. "I will always love you – "

"Stop, don't." Will looked at her in surprise, and saw a gleam that was both wise and rash in her eyes. "I can't ask you to say that." Elizabeth struggled briefly to sit up, but settled back as a frustration and anger seeped into her face. Will made to aid her, but she stopped him and spoke. "Will, I hate this. I hate… knowing you and I… will part. I hate knowing… you will grieve for me, I hate that you can't… rescue me," she railed, stopping Will with a weak hand against his lips. "I _hate_ that I can't die nobly, and that you can't take revenge. I hate that… we cannot grow old together." She sighed, and the wind threw the rain at the windows like a sullen child. "Most of all, I hate knowing…" she paused to catch her breath, as the disease ate its way through her body. "I hate that you won't move on."

The thunder crashed as a flash of lightning illuminated the room, catching a glimmer on the crystalline tears that had fallen from her face. Outside, the rain fell in streams on the window that imitated Elizabeth's tears. Will leaned back into the shadows to hide his own tears, and gripped her hand against his lips with a shaking hand. "Why must I move on?" he protested, his voice thick with hot tears. "I have always loved you. Only you." 

"You are your father's son, William Turner." She said softly, almost unheard in the heavy afternoon rain. "I am on the edge… between life and death… and your father stands beside you." She looked beside Will and smiled, and Will turned his head wildly to catch a glimpse of whatever Elizabeth saw. "You cannot let me be what keeps you from the sea… and your adventure," she said, looking into the air next to Will. "It is your legacy and your destiny."

"My life is here, with you," Will said as he closed his eyes as if in pain. The room was filled with thick, wet air, as heaven wept alongside Will. 

"Don't let me stand between you and your destiny, Will." She closed her eyes and breathed out a shuddering sigh. "I will always be beside you." 

For a few moments, Will said nothing; letting the lightning offer illumination to guide his thoughts and the thunder break the silence. The only sound beside the occasional thunder was the rain spatter on the walls and roof and Elizabeth's labored breath. The silence stretched heavy and bloated, as each breath rattled loudly in the lonely room. On the far wall, the shadows of the rain made the room seem to be filled with ghosts, and Will clutched Elizabeth's hand tighter. Somewhere between life and the afterlife was this moment, thought Will, and he looked at his wife as a tear rolled down his cheek. His hand squeezed tight, and a small squeak escaped Elizabeth's mouth.

"Will… you're hurting me," she whispered into the thick air. He let her go, and she sighed. Her head rolled to face him, her face framed by her sweaty, stringy ringlets and her fever-bright eyes looked at him. "Ghost stories, Will. I believe now." His eyes grew large as his mind could see the edges of wisps, shades and ethereal phantoms that walked out of eyesight. His head turned rapidly around, making him dizzy and disoriented, but Elizabeth continued speaking. "Please, Will, don't go chasing ghosts. I love you, your father loves you… so many people love you." He stopped and turned to her, his face white with anxiety.

"No. Elizabeth, you can't leave me." Will cried, as she gripped his hand. "I love you." The words drowned in a crash of thunder, as the rain poured harder and the wind whipped through the gardens below. A sudden rush of wind blew open the windows, throwing the room into disarray as the wind moaned, cutting sharply through the room. Will jumped up as the curtains billowed towards Elizabeth, and forcefully closed the window. As his back was turned, he heard a long, shuddering sigh, and he knew.

"Elizabeth? No…" was heard through the winds, as Will turned to face the forever sleeping face of his wife. "Elizabeth!" He called her name as he gathered her body in his arms, clutching her to his chest, and weeping uncontrollably. "No. You can't leave me."

The storm grew deeply silent in the twilight hour, as Will Turner held his wife's body in his arms. The winds grew eerily still and a green fog seemed to settle over the harbor town. The wetness that settled on the roofs and eaves dripped rapidly off, settling into deep pools and making a mucky bog through the streets. Will laid Elizabeth down again and placed his head against her breast, holding her hand as he had many times before. He looked out at the storm from her window with bloodshot eyes, darkened with grief and exhaustion, and watched for what seemed like hours as the winds picked up speed. His eyes drooped, hoping to join her in the storm, and he slept like the dead.

When he woke, his face fell first on the body of his dead wife. His emotions welled up as a geyser would, but he pressed them down, hoping to stay numb. He walked to the window and saw that the rains had passed. Instead, the early morning Caribbean sun shown down on a town ravaged by the tropical storm. All of the shops were leveled, most of the ships in the harbor were driftwood, and the sounds of disaster reached his ears. 

Dazed, he walked down the stairs to see the servants looking amazed and Governor Swann looking despaired. Will shook his head sadly at the old man and he began to weep. He leaned heavily on the walking cane Will had given him after the wedding, and gave Will a piteous look. "All this saved, and only the most precious treasure lost."

Will looked around, the governor's comment sparking life into his addled brain. "How?" was the only thing he could ask, noticing the surprisingly little damage the rest of the house had sustained; All stones were intact, all foliage spared, even the clay tiles on the roof were all present. It was as if the mansion had been in a separate world all night, keeping him and Elizabeth safe. 

Under his breath, he whispered her words. "Ghost stories…" Will thought, and he looked around. He walked back up the stairs to the familiar bedroom, and looked at Elizabeth's peaceful form. Her lips were blue and her body was stiff and cold, but the room showed no sign of any damage. As the young man walked around the room, Will heard the slow, steady steps of the Governor following him up the stairs.

A choked sob reached his ears, and Will walked over to the old man. "We have both lost something precious to us," Will offered, placing a hand on the Governor's shoulder. "But maybe, she has protected us from destruction."

"I don't understand," Governor Swann replied, looking only at his daughter's corpse. 

"I believe in ghosts, Governor, but I also believe in angels." Will smiled sadly, and turned away from his dead wife. "And she will always be watching over us."

Will left the mansion and walked towards the rubble of the town and harbor. The town was wrecked, as if an earthquakeP had shook the foundations and twisted the wood until it snapped. He walked smoothly down the hill, his mind racing and his hands shaking. As he wound through the narrow, debris-filled streets, Will neared the smithy and he felt as if his stomach would lurch out of his mouth. 

The stone walls were still standing but the wooden frame and room had fallen in. The timbers that had crumbled into the forge had burnt through, leaving a pile of ash next to the small, dead frame of the donkey. Amongst the rubble, many of the swords he had made and put his emotions, his heartbreak, his frustrations, and even his love and elation were bent and some embedded into the stones as if shot from a cannon.

Will stepped through the ruins of his life's work and began sifting through the pieces. As he lifted one of the heavy doors, he found the broken body of Mr. Brown. The trusty bottle of Caribbean Rum was shattered around him, leaving a faint stench of the strong alcohol around his corpse. Will surmised that the old man must have slept through the storm right where Will had left him. He felt numb, and cold… and his mind raced with familiar memories of Elizabeth, and the smithy. The deluge of remembrances stopped upon the thought of a worn and well-traveled Captain's tri-cornered hat, and the thought broke through Will's coldness. He stopped silently and methodically shifting the broken remains and stood still as the deep grief crashed down upon him. "I have nothing left," he thought aloud to the empty remains of the smithy. The only people that would hear him now were ghosts, as he sat violently and sobbed. The morning had brought only tragedy and Will could only see tragedy ahead of him.

He sat as the owners of the establishments around him arrived and stood in shock at the ruins of their own businesses. He sat alone, amongst the dead, until an aged hand pressed against his shoulder. "Mr. Turner," the Governor's voice called to him. "You must come with me." Will turned to look at the old man, and he saw his own pain mirrored on the Governor's face. "We're preparing the wake, and you will be expected to be there." Governor Swann offered his hand and pulled Will up with surprising strength. "Come, Will. Let's get you cleaned up."

Will could only follow silently, and as they walked slowly up the hill towards the house, the glimmer of metal caught Will's downward eye. He paused to see and as he looked closely, he found one of his finest swords unharmed, lying under a fallen palm tree. He pulled it out and held it at arm's length, admiring his own craftsmanship.

"You make swords fit for kings," remarked the governor, standing along side him.

"I believe I will no longer make them in Port Royal, Governor," replied Will. "There is nothing left for me here."

"I see." The Governor began walking back to the house. "You are a fine man, Will…. a better match for any woman than I would have given you credit for. You were always good… to Elizabeth." The Governor coughed, seemingly to hide his tears, and both men continued walking.

"Thank you…" Will said after a moment. "You were always kind to me." He looked at the old man who had been like a father and sighed. "I will miss you after I leave."

"I know," returned the Governor, and they walked the rest of the way in relative silence. When they reached the mansion, the Governor turned to Will and briefly embraced him and then walked into the receiving hall. There, Elizabeth lay in her coffin, and both men consciously averted their eyes as a new wave of grief welled up in each. Looking sadly at Will, the Governor asked Will tiredly, "What will you do now?"

"I think," Will began, and then paused. "I will offer my services as a blacksmith to one of the ships around the harbor. I cannot stay here."

The Governor looked thoughtful, and then smiled sadly at Will. "Give my regards to your captain then," he said with a knowing smile.

Will fingered the filigreed guard of the sword and held it up to the light filtering in from the windows "I will, Governor." He turned and looked at Elizabeth and then returned the melancholy smile. "Hopefully, then, I won't see you after this." 

Both men forced a chuckle and parted into their separate rooms. Behind them, a ghostly, girlish laughter followed them both.

  


* * *

P An earthquake did destroy the real life town of Port Royal, and not only covered it in lava, but sank it into the ocean.


End file.
